woo hoo!

I sat in the waiting room at Women's College Hospital, surrounded by 8 or 9 other women also wearing faded blue hospital gowns. Nothing to read in the tiny room, a tiny TV jabbering overhead, uncomfortable seats - is this the best they can do? However, I'm not complaining; a few minutes before, the technician had put my previous mammogram on her display machine, where I could clearly see a little dot. "I can see it," I said.

"It could be just normal density," she said. "But it's different from last time. That's why we'll do it again. This will go to the radiologist, who'll let me know whether you need an ultrasound as well."

She squashed me flat again, and I went back to the waiting women. "We sure know how to have a good time," I said aloud, and we all laughed. Finally, the technician reappeared.

"Elizabeth?" she said. I stood up. "You're free to go."

I had to breathe for a minute.

"That means it's fine?"

"That means it's fine."

It's a wonderful thing to find out, after two weeks of some concern, that you don't have breast cancer - at least, this year. I went straight to the Y for a long hot shower, and then to Winner's on the way home where I bought a pair of ridiculous shoes that I'll take back tomorrow. I sure know how to have a good time.

I'm home! Home, alone, healthy. The crabby cat sleeps beside me, the birds chirp in the ivy, the cicada rasps, the basil scents the air. All is well again.

There's lots to tell about the last few weeks, and I'll get to it. But right now, here is an all points bulletin: ALL IS WELL HERE. Happy, lucky, relieved.

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And for further celebration, go the New York Times and read Warren Buffet's article from yesterday's paper, "Stop Coddling the Super Rich." Ground-breaking; revolutionary. Maybe it will help.